Best Tag On Poems


Premium Member Zakaria

He stands against the old barn door
relaxed not a confrontational bone,
thin      as a pitchfork's tine.

Farmhand, hunter, true-shooter,
the lens flatters him.
A ring of white T-shirt gives a reverse
halo to his lantern-jaw.
Loose fitting pants rumple
just right atop his     kick ass boots.

He stands against an old barn door
who held up who 	the real question—
a bit of James Dean   in pocket pressed hands,
Paul Newman in his eyes.

Flannel hugs him. 	(When the woman aren’t.)
Capped by a bent brimmed hat,
he's rolled to perfection.
I’m sure the name tag on his shirt
didn’t do him justice—

Premium Member Good Night Face

Let me describe to you...my face, how I look 
Taken from my photo...on the face of my book
 
I have one crooked eye brow...the one on the right 
It grew back that way...when I shaved it one night
 
The wrinkles in my eyes...are spread like a bare tree 
As for hair, I've got some...and that's cool by me
 
The bridge on my nose...and to your accord 
Looks like to me...to be straight as a board
 
Twas a hole in my left ear...now fully closed 
Back when, I wore an earring...when I wore wholly clothes
 
My chin swiveled slightly...'cause I'm chewing on gum 
In the depth of my cleft...there's a scratch from my thumb
 
A rough scruffy face...from a two day old beard 
WHAT! There's a tag on my neck...now that's a bit weird
 
I just noticed it now...while observing my cleft 
It's sticking out below it...an inch to the left
 
There's a scar on my lip...below my mustache 
That I got while fishing...an accidental knife slash
 
My face as a whole...narrow, and thin
Been out in the rays...got a tan on my skin
 
Ugly, I am, nah...but some might think so 
Their heads must be big...eh, what do they know
 
Handsome, am I...not to sound bold 
A good looking man, from my wives...I've been told
 
The whites in my eyes...all blood shot and red 
From staying up late writing...when I should be in bed
 
Good-Night!

 
Okay, this isn't completely true. The photo wasn't from my book, it's me now. I don't have one crooked eyebrow, I have two. I'm NOT cool with having just SOME hair. The bridge on my nose is slightly crooked. The hole in my ear is on my right side, my chin is swiveling, but not from chewing gum. I have no cleft, the scar on my lip was no accident. I have no tan, it's winter. I am not ugly, I am handsome (lol) My eyes are blood shot, but not from being tired. And it's 8:00 I'll be up for hours. 
Besides that, everything else is one hundred percent true! 

The Metaphor Of Your Face Poetry Contest 
Sponsor: John Lawless 
11-22-2019

A Price Tag On Every Soul

Everybody bears a price tag
Claim tycoons with bottomless purses
With a plethora of dollars to flash and flag
About to entice simpletons who deem their lives struck by curses

Inserted in their DNA
Generations ago
Which render them incapable to shove away
Bets of cash their stricken spines can’t forgo

While stomachs groan and lips
Demand smartphones, mascaras and lipsticks
Deployed to slay chaps with wanton whips
That cut and slice with savage kicks

On pates gone wan with insomnia
As limousine driven juggernauts
Splurge huge wads of notes to catalyze mass hysteria
Among street corner astronauts

Whose flight to Cupid exoplanet
Fell on its face
As moral worth net
They chose to suppress

In the face of perennial penury
That nibbles homesteads bereft of meals
In January
When cash overloaded sovereigns strike asymmetric deals

In which they beat down the cashless
Unless the poor rebuff cash offers
Preferring the famine and thirst the voiceless
Endure twenty four seven cos their coffers

Cash they’ve never seen
Cos fate shifted the balance of resources in favour of the few
Who more often than not turn out mean
To taunt the poor who shift on a church pew

As a tycoon blurts, ‘There’s a price tag on you
The sooner you acknowledge the reality
The better your world will enliven anew
As on you my bucks bestow and restore dignity in humility.’


Premium Member BUTTERFLIES

Don't go weeping at my grave for I'm not there
I've a date with a butterfly to dance in the air
I'll play tag on the wind so wild n free
Waiting for the day you'll play with me
Your life was a blessing, memories a shared treasure
Your loved beyond words, missed beyond measure
I held your hand as you took your last breath
But had to let go and let you leave with death
I'll never forget you, your smile and touch
Go fly with all those Angels you love so much
© Mike Mund  Create an image from this poem.

The Up's and Down's of Love

The ups of relationships are self- explanatory 
But you shouldn’t force your partner to say it in a hurry
When people fall in love they think their feelings will remain
They never mention all the confusion, all the heartache and pain
What will you do when you’re in love, but that person doesn’t love you back?
You’ll feel all alone, and you don’t know how to act
Love is a very powerful word, but you use it in vain
You say you love them, but you feel like you have nothing to gain
When you experience the ups of love you feel like you rule the world
You feel like you wouldn’t trade your partner in for all the riches, diamonds, and pearls
You can’t put a put a price tag on love, but you try to
You feel deceived when that person runs out on you
In the beginning you felt like that person swept you off you feet
But at the end you realize all their wrong doings just repeat
Falling in love isn’t a decision that you can make
So don’t deprive people of not wanting to love, because you caused their heart to break

Where's My Wig

Two girls whisper something
I know they are talking about my hair

One of them has long straight sleek hair that reaches her mid back
The other has short hair that's smooth and silky 

Of course I can tell that the long hair isn't real, neither is the short
I wonder what's the price tag on the long hair
Must be someone's else hair
Or must be from the factory 
I bet she can't wait to take it off when she gets home, in her privacy, away from the adoring eyes of admirers of beauty 
I bet she can't wait for the end of the month when she gets paid so she can spent the bigger portion of her cheque on new hair

And the short hair! Girl, I bet she spends uncountable hours on it
The amount of time and man power spend on bringing out that "magic" must be a fortune 
And the amounts of chemicals dumped in that hair......if only scalps could talk!
Someone could be paying not just physical damage but also psychological one

Two girls whisper something 
Two girls make fun of me

They make fun of my natural hair
My hair has many names kinky, nappy....etc 
Some girls think I don't care
but I am proud of what I see in the mirror 

"I AM NOT MY HAIR" Thank you India Arie


An End of the Age of Innocence Part Iii

In our fast paced twentieth century world..,

We oft' have neglected to stop to smell the roses,
Oft' we used to bow our heads silently to pray,
As we reflect back to the sixties is had launched a pad to rebellion !
With a vast amount of liberal bias and thinking,

No wonder why our nation is sinking..,

Sinking amidst a cuss pool of mere morality..,
For now it is a quite different time,
A very unique but different type of day..,
An end of the age of innocence,

One hath been enlightened..,

From seeking truth,
Some fresh out of a garbage can..,
Yet for Gods' sake,
He hath such an amazing plan !

Hence, to shun the broad road,

Yet to seek to venture in the narrow..,
Such as a distant bird in flight !
You might see this creature venture out at night ?
Of the Eagle nor the Sparrow..,

It used to mean something to have a sense of common courteous..,
To hold open the door for your neighbor ?
Yet for the time being we relent and waiver..,
Would you prefer another taste of a certain ice cream flavor ?

To ponder we must be content with who we are in the inside..,

Nor, a mere fancy suit or blazing sport's car,
Life is a roller coaster..,
In what you do while busy making other plans..,
Finding solace among the height of nature.,

Such to think at what is quite simple,
As a young child reflects on his or her poster board,
Playing with their magic crayons..,
For in eternity it is such a very long time !

Take heed in what you do,

Now is the expectant hour !
What will one choose to do ?
There can be no place nor need for any compromise,
Within it's vast perpetual spectrum !

One just can't put a price tag on a genuine but unique heart !

Hence, with honest integrity..,
The time for change is today !

Not Down With This Sickness

There is a system 
That turns innocent to victim..
And the aggressor turns to witness.
There’s a sickness in this business.
The whole judicial system is with this!
Swept under the rug with a quickness..

Children being taken by force with the courts..
How is it that there are so many reports
Stating so blatantly 
that there’s no cause for reports?
But there’s children being taken 
Right out of their parents hand!
Even when there’s no ground 
on which to stand!
And I’ll be Damned if I don’t take a stand!
I grew up in that system 
Damned right I understand!

From the inside out-
These motherjumpers are gonna hear me out
Until it wears me out-
I’m yelling Down With The System 
I’m not down with the sickness
What the problem is-
I am clearly calling out!

There’s a monster out there...
But it’s not under the bed..
It’s the State run kidnapping
Yea believe it!
This monster is fed by the Feds.
There’s a price tag on all Children’s heads!

This Monster will prey upon your Family..
Chaos and heartbreak 
Until you drown in the insanity.
Screaming in a courtroom 
How can it be...?
That this is allowed to continue 
It’s a downright travesty!

I took an oath that either foreign or domestic 
I will stand against an enemy
Spiritually, emotionally 
physically and mentally
There will never be an end to me
So I will stand as battle ready
Ready to storm the establishment 
And implement the remedy

Kidnapping any child should 
Become a capital felony 
Death sentence worthy 
And all that should be funded federally 
The Beast system has been in place
And it’s staring us all right in the face
DCF IS THE ENEMY
CPS IS THE ENEMY
BURY THEM ALL UNDER THE PRISON
AND LABEL IT CLOSED CASE.
© James West  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member A Different Kind of Memorial

I write this for you far too late it seems.
That the day would come, the sun would set on you
was always just a bad dream, I'd conjure in my head,
late at night while laying haphazardly in my bed.
Of course I found it to be true
and it left me speechless through and through.
You were a friend to me and a Man of God.
You were tired of standing still, so you got off your log.
And when you announced you were joining the army
I was indifferent. I didn't beam with pride, nor preach against it.
I was a pesky mouse with a million things to say, but stayed quiet.
Just what in the world could I do
that would ever compare to the Greatest Sacrifice?
We can't even sit down and talk about it
that's what they mean by the Ultimate Price.
Just how in the world do I honor thee
when I'm convinced so thoroughly
America was in the wrong?
I wish at times I could be like a sheep
and tag along.
Hold my head up high
and see the good ole red, white and blue
waving majestically in the sky.
But I can't just ignore what my heart is telling me.
It's not about taking the day-off and having a barbecue.
It's not about kicking up your feet, basking in the heat.
I respect that full-heartedly.
But with the range of emotions I'm feeling currently
I can't even shed a tear,
it just wouldn't do these feelings justice.
For it is without shame and without prejudice
I mourn the loss of anyone,
not just someone close to me.
I can't put a price tag on lives,
it's just not how I see things.
It's a lie what they tell you, digging doesn't
always get you gold, just grimier dirt.
When someone goes we all point fingers,
but in the end it's only hurt that we feel.
It's a long grieving process, but in explicable ways
some of us just won't ever heal.
Oh how I wish to grab Uncle Sam's shoulders,
screaming, "Wake UP!
We've played your game, but enough is enough!
In the name of God, stop this charade!
How dare you turn a blind eye to so much blood..."
But alas, now is not the time for that - today I'm just sad
when I think of all the life you could have had.
All I know is that on May 4th, 2013 war took her course
and swallowed up one of this world's last great remaining stars.
It's a comfort to me, however minuscule,
that I see your smile on the faces of many,
so you can't be all that far.

Disability and Equality

Disability & equality

I & my kind are equal
The skin of my color is not a curse 
But due to evil & greed
My fellow humans have put a price-tag on my head
Making me the most hunted amongst the human kind
Yet in the book & to the creator we are equal


I am fully human nevertheless ,but human
Failing to carry my body due to my leg problems 
doesn't make you more human because you can move

Situations i solve without my eyes 
My heart & mind do the chemistry
I'm a man with no hands
But Wars & battles of injustice I fight
Yet job opportunities to my kind are still denied

My voice is heard but ignored
their voice is heard & acknowledged
leaving me a lonely a person,you call a mad man(wamisala)
Yet before the book we are all equal

Words from my lips are distorted
Hands  i still use to communicate
Yet am denied the same chances as those that speak with their lips
but before the book & creator we are equal

By *Paul kasolokera Mkandawire*

Baby Jesus's Stuffed Animal

Baby Jesus lay away in a manger

The three wise brothers brought him gold

Have you ever heard of the story of the stranger?

That brought the young pip an animal of cold

This stuffed animal was made with the remains of religion

Cuddly and fluffy like the feeling of tonic and gin

Sewn together with the hair of Jewish corpses

For he will die one day for their future sins

Or so they say.........

The little baby Jesus tossed away his gold

Did not give a sh#t for the jewelry and the mold

He gravitated to this one eyed plush of spun

As the tag on his foot replaced with "Made from Taiwan"

Baby Jesus would call this animal of odd

By the name he knew only of his father of "God"

As Mary closed her legs and removed her cigarette

She asked why? to the stranger as he shook his head

"If this is the boy of the God of it all?

Why is he white? When we know that they are "small"

I figured I would bring him a toy with one eye

For one is enough for a small gifted guy"

The leader of the nation or better yet the world

Should be endowed to enjoy all the girls 

I give him a bear with the remains of "his" kind

As a reminder that he will never be mine

As I draw a line in the sand to choose

The line you see drawn is from the middle of my shoes

The footsteps on both sides are not from him carrying me

They are mine as I walk to my religion of ecstasy

Enjoy your bear Jesus, I will enjoy life
© Penn Kname  Create an image from this poem.

Game Over

I burst through my kitchen door knocking down my mother in the process and said "outta the way loser".

I went down to my gamer cave to reign my epicness on these poor little noobs at my feet begging for mercy, but it's them I shall beat.

But my noob powning session came to a swift end, because I heard a pound above my head.

When my daddy gets home smelling like big boy juice, he always plays a game of tag where mommy is the runner and his fist is it.

I realized this wasn't a boss I couldnt beat at my current level, so I got an upgrade.

I grabbed my trusty fork and shoved it into the nearest socket at full force, the exp was to much so my brain went numb and I blacked out.

After I regened some health I woke up with red Mana dripping from my nose. I knew I was ready to take on the final boss now.

I limped up the stairs but that was only because my body was readjusting to the powers.

when I got up the stairs I said to my dad "game over" but before I could even finish speaking my dad uppertagged me so hard my head hit the ceiling. 

As my jaw hung loosely from my face my dad looked down to me and said playfully "your it"

I gave my dad a light little tag on the shoulder, and in response he tagged my arm so hard I could hear a silly little crack that made my arm go numb.

My dad then climbbed onto the couch and started throwing pillows at me, all the while singing "you can't catch me" "you can't catch me"

My dad jumped off the couch and tagged me so hard I went flying out the window, then my silly little fence tagged me right through the chest

My dad walked up to where I was lying on the ground in a pool of manna and said to me "you and your mom are noobs" "bet you wish you had a health potion".

As I was fading in and out of consciousness my dad was dangling a health kit right above my head, and all I could say was "nice one dad".

Premium Member Executive Scandal

Our tax they win it now
rub the law in iniquity
buy and sell but can nay say how
so an odd act of equity
see the tag on a not fed cow
try to sue; jab in unity
a big axe to get a bow
for all to ask the quality
the hot tar and wax now felt
woe to the sir on dry belt
hit and tow the raw app to melt
for all to see and reply
the bad and the low, all ply
top to rat, now out of supply

Premium Member Mildly Amusing Limerick 7

Personal Tag

There’s a personal tag on my car
It’s a stand out in my repertoire
It suggests ‘HUG’M NOW,’
And it must be highbrow,
For the source was our friend NPR.

Brian Johnston
June 29, 2015

Forsaken

The smell of coffee!
kids playing tag on the lawn
your shadow's leaving
© Rahy Hy  Create an image from this poem.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace